The Felling of the Tree
by Nibiru-Mul
Summary: One-shot inspired by Akallabeth. The White Tree has given great joy for the people of Numenor. But now the wicked King has decided to chop it down. It will cause great pain for the King's wife and the rest of the Faithful.


_**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Ar-Pharazôn, Zimraphel, Sauron, and Isildur. They are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I do, however, own some of the characters, such as Nanabêth, Gimilkali, Ankar, and Belkhad._

_This story is rated T for domestic violence. It is not for those under 13._

_This is my first real Silmarillion fic. I've attempted them before, but none were as good as this._

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**THE ESTATE OF NIBIRU-MUL PRESENTS**

**FELLING OF THE TREE**

It was a dark time in the kingdom of Númenor. Though the country had become very rich and had a worldwide empire, there was trouble inside. It was ruled by a wicked king named Ar-Pharazôn. He ruled over his people with an iron fist. He had Sauron, the Dark Lord, by his side. Sauron influenced the King to make his corrupt decisions.

It was the year 3274 of the Second Age. Sauron had been in the kingdom for over a decade, and he was a powerful figure. He was married to his cousin Zimraphel. But this was little to her liking, for she had been the true heir to the Númenórean throne. Ar-Pharazôn was cruel to his wife and at times he beat her, which had shocked many people - even among his supporters.

Ar-Pharazôn was in his throne room. He was a tall, imposing, and handsome man, with beautiful blond hair cut close to his shoulders. He had fierce blue eyes which lay under the bangs of his hair. He wore a black robe with white trim and underneath was a long blue tunic. On his hands were black gloves. He was in the room with Sauron, who was in the form of a handsome man with silver hair and black clothing.

"Your Majesty," said Sauron, "the kingdom has grown great."

"Of course," said Ar-Pharazôn.

"It shall grow greater once you gain the elixir of life," said Sauron.

"You mean the gift of immortality?" asked Ar-Pharazôn.

"Indeed," said Sauron. "If we play our cards right, I can get you to become immortal. And together we can release Men from their doom."

"I have dreamed of that for so long," said Ar-Pharazôn. "I thirst mainly for gold, but anything that those foolish servants of mine give me is nothing compared to the idea of living forever. I really need to discover a way that I can gain eternal life. Do you know of a way?"

"There is one," said Sauron. "You must fell the White Tree." Sauron was referring to Nimloth, the tree that grew in the King's Court.

Ar-Pharazôn was shocked.

"You must be joking, Sauron," said Ar-Pharazôn. "I cannot cut down that tree. If I do, there will be no more line of Kings."

Sauron wanted to think of a way around it. Both Sauron and the King pondered for a moment.

"Your Majesty," said Sauron, "once you gain eternal life, you shall not need an heir. That tree can be sacrificed to Melkor."

Ar-Pharazôn hesitated at first - he remembered the words of Tar-Palantir. But eventually, he relented.

"I agree to this," said Ar-Pharazôn. And here his tone of voice became nastier. "That tree shall perish, and it will be sacrificed in the temple." Ar-Pharazôn had recently completed the golden temple that Sauron had wanted. It was a huge building, five hundred feet high and five hundred feet wide, with walls fifty feet thick. On top was a silver dome.

Though Ar-Pharazôn had planned this, he was not the only one who heard this. Zimraphel had heard it as well. She had cloaked herself in a shawl, with her long raven black hair sticking out. She wore dreary clothes so if Sauron saw her, he wouldn't think it was the Queen.

"Oh no," said Zimraphel. "It cannot be!"

Later, after Sauron went out to the city, Zimraphel discussed the idea with her husband.

"Please, dear," she said, "you cannot cut down that tree!"

"Of course I can," said Ar-Pharazôn. "Do you realize that you are talking to Ar-Pharazôn, the most powerful man in the world? I can do whatever I want!"

"But that tree is important," said Zimraphel. "You can't cut it down. That would be your folly."

Ar-Pharazôn gave Zimraphel a sharp look. He struck her on her shoulder.

"That is to show that you do not double-cross me," said the King.

Zimraphel could not take it, so she sent out word to Elendil. Elendil decided that his son Isildur would sneak into the palace and take a sapling of the White Tree.

A few nights later - the night before Nimloth was to be removed - Isildur snuck into the palace. He was dressed as a beggar. He looked around at the scene. He saw Ankar, the captain of the guard, patrolling the palace. He was talking with Belkhad, one of the guards.

"It is an honor for me to be the one to fell Nimloth," said Ankar. "I have served the King loyally for many years, and it is incredible for me to be helping him in his quest for eternal life."

"And once that tree is felled, we can sacrifice it," said Belkhad. "Melkor would be so proud of us."

Isildur saw that the guards were distracted. He carefully walked over to Nimloth - the tree was standing tall with all its white flowers in bloom. Isildur took his sword out and carefully cut a sapling from the tree. He put the sapling in a bag. Once he was done, he fled the palace grounds before anyone could see him.

The next day, Zimraphel heard that Ar-Pharazôn was making preparations for chopping down Nimloth. She could not bear to spend time with him, so she talked to two of her ladies-in-waiting.

One of the ladies was named Nanabêth, and the other was named Gimilkali. They were beautiful maidens. Nanabêth had golden hair, and was clad in a pink gown. Gimilkali had brown hair and wore a silver gown. Both of them were members of the Faithful, though they kept it in secret,

"What am I going to do?" asked Zimraphel. "There's nothing that I can do."

"I'm afraid there is nothing we can do, either," said Nanabêth. "The King is far too powerful. If we dared to question him, he would cut our heads off. We cannot do anything about his rule. All you can do is try to remain vigilant and keep an eye on him."

"That sounds fine and all," said Zimraphel, "but I need to stop the King. Sauron's influence makes him worse as the days go by. I cannot tolerate it. I don't know what I am going to do."

"You should not give up," said Gimilkali. "Ar-Pharazôn has to be stopped. He cannot alienate us from the Valar forever. We need to honor them, for that is our place in society. Just keep trying and hopefully you will be able to stop him and regain your throne!"

"I hope so," said Zimraphel.

Afterwards, Zimraphel took a walk through the gardens. She admired the beautiful plants growing, with colorful flowers in bloom. Then, she went inside the palace.

But when Zimraphel reached the courtroom, she saw Ar-Pharazôn standing there. He looked intimidating. Zimraphel stood there in fear of the King. Ar-Pharazôn grabbed his wife by the wrist.

"Well, well," he said, "if it isn't the silly Queen. You were thinking that you could interfere with my plans, were you not?"

"No, Your Majesty," said Zimraphel. "I wasn't. But please, do not cut down Nimloth. That tree is important to our family and our entire country. The first King of Númenor planted this tree - in other words, our forefather, Elros. If you destroy Nimloth, something very bad will happen to you, me, and our kingdom."

"That tree is a symbol of the Eldar and the Valar," said Ar-Pharazôn. "It must be destroyed."

"You can't!" said Zimraphel. "If you destroy it, the line of Kings will perish."

"You're making your King angry," said Ar-Pharazôn. He began to walk away, pulling his wife as he did. "I will gain the gift of immortality sooner or later."

Ar-Pharazôn walked through the halls of the palace. Zimraphel walked behind him. She could not break free from her husband's strong grip.

"NO! STOP!" cried Zimraphel. "Where are you taking me?"

"To the tower," said Ar-Pharazôn. "I am going to cut down that tree whether you like it or not. I need to keep you away from me so I can carry out my plans. And there is not a thing in the world that you can do to stop my plans."

Ar-Pharazôn reached a stairway. He took Zimraphel up the stairs. Eventually, he took her to the top of the tower.

"You will stay in here," said Ar-Pharazôn, "and you will not get out until I come back!"

Ar-Pharazôn violently threw Zimraphel down and then left the room. He locked the door before his wife could reach it.

"No!" said Zimraphel. "Let me out! Let me out! I will not let you do that to Nimloth! You will not get away with this!"

When Ar-Pharazôn had disposed of his wife, he walked down the halls and back to the courtyard. He was standing there. He looked at Ankar. Ankar took the signal from the King to chop down the tree.

"Cut down this tree," said the King, "or I will have your head as a trophy."

Ankar swung his huge axe and started to cut Nimloth. The tree was being cut down slowly. But then Ar-Pharazôn grew impatient with his guard.

"Faster, I tell you! FASTER!" yelled Ar-Pharazôn.

Ankar cut the tree faster. Zimraphel looked out from the window in horror. She could not bear to see the dreadful sight of Ar-Pharazôn ordering Nimloth to be cut down. This was a truly dreadful day indeed - and due the prediction of her father, it meant that the line of Kings had ended. Zimraphel could not help but cry as she was stuck in the room.

Once Nimloth was chopped down, Ar-Pharazôn brought the dead tree to Sauron.

"Excellent," said Sauron. "Now we can burn this tree at the temple."

"That would be most delightful," said Ar-Pharazôn. "Morgoth would be most delighted at the scent of the burning tree."

"The temple is due to be open for business in a few days," said Sauron.

"Yes," said Ar-Pharazôn. "And Nimloth the Fair shall be its first victim." The King and Sauron laughed wickedly.

Eventually, Ar-Pharazôn let his wife out of the tower.

"Thanks for waiting in here," said the King.

"You murderer!" cried Zimraphel. "How could you chop down Nimloth? Don't you know what this means? Our royal dynasty is dead!"

"It is your own fault," said Ar-Pharazôn. "You could not bear me a child to succeed the throne, so I have no hear."

"You do not deserve one," said Zimraphel.

"Yet that will not be necessary anymore," said Ar-Pharazôn. "I will gain immortality somehow. I will do whatever it takes to get it!"

A few days later, it was time for Ar-Pharazôn to burn down the dead Nimloth. Ar-Pharazôn dressed in a long black and silver tunic. He wore his black robes over it. On his head was a horned helmet with jewels in it. The helmet was made of pure gold. He bore the Scepter of Númenor in his hands. The King was seated on a throne, and Sauron stood behind him.

"Now," the King said, "we are gathered here today to make our first sacrifice to Morgoth. We will burn this hateful tree of the Eldar in the pyre. Morgoth thirsts for power, and power shall this tree give to him. He will be pleased with this sacrifice. And many more will come to us, in the hopes of releasing us from the Doom of Men."

Various terrible rituals followed. There were hymns and prayers dedicated to the love of Morgoth and ones to condemn the Valar.

A group of people carried Nimloth into the temple. They placed Nimloth on the pyre.

"And, without further ado, Nimloth shall be torched," said Ar-Pharazôn. "LET THE BURNING COMMENCE!"

Sauron created a fire and lit up the dead tree. Nimloth burned to smithereens, and it let out a foul stench and a black smoke. The King laughed maniacally as the tree burned down. The King's supporters cheered, and the Faithful wept. Zimraphel broke down in tears as she saw the tree burn.

The smoke stayed in the air for seven days, until a wind blew it westwards.

After that, Zimraphel mused upon her sorrows.

"Don't cry, my Queen," said Nanabêth.

"I am afraid I cannot stop," said Zimraphel. "That tree meant so much to me and my kingdom. I cannot believe that my husband would have the audacity to cut it down."

"I think it was Sauron's idea," said Gimilkali. "He convinced Ar-Pharazôn that it would be best for the kingdom."

"I don't think I can stop him," said Zimraphel. "Now I'm even more hopeless."

"Please, my lady," said Nanabêth, "you have to persevere. You cannot let the King stop you."

"All I have left is my faith in the Valar," said Zimraphel. "I can only pray day and night to have them give support to me."

Nanabêth and Gimilkali tried to reassure Zimraphel, but unfortunately, they could not help her. And when Zimraphel was lost in the fall of Númenor, the two ladies-in-waiting survived and spent the rest of their days in Annúminas where they lived as spinsters, reminiscing the days of their lost kingdom.

Ar-Pharazôn was in a room alone, thinking to himself.

"I do not regret this," he said to himself. "That tree was an obstacle to my power. I do not care about its importance. What is important is that I will be getting aid from Sauron in my quest for immortality. No one can stop me now. I can only press forward as my dream comes true."

But what Ar-Pharazôn did not know was that Isildur had saved the sapling of Nimloth. Many years later, when Númenor was destroyed, Isildur brought the sapling back to Middle-earth and planted a new White Tree. And when that tree was felled, its sapling was planted in Minas Anor. The tree would become an emblem of Gondor and many people would enjoy it and its descendants.

**THE END **

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